


And The Lights Were As Bright As My Baby

by sterlingstars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, First Kiss, Love Over Tea, Pre and Post-Timeskip, lesbians AND religious imagery? in my lesbian fic? it's more likely than you think, that's a tag i'm making now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: Marianne von Edmund does not want to make friends. She does not want people to be close to her- but there's something about Mercedes that makes her lose her inhibitions. A tentative friendship blossoms into something more as the two women spend time together and get closer through the highs and lows of war. Marianne has never thought of herself as someone can be loved, but maybe she can be proven wrong. The Goddess, after all, works in mysterious ways.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	1. One: Aacademy

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this one is a Whopper. It also got away from me faster than I could figure out a Hozier song to relate it to. This started because I thought to myself, "Wow, I can't believe Marianne and Mercedes don't have supports." And that thought morphed into, "Wow, I really think they should kiss." So here we are! Enjoy, friends, I had a good time writing this.

There is a ghost in the cathedral at Garreg Mach. 

That ghost is Marianne, a spectre in the corners, bags under her eyes and pale fingers clasped together in prayer. That’s her usual state of being- tucked in a corner, eyes slipped closed, hands folded over each other, fingers laced in piety. Chapped lips chanting pleas of forgiveness and salvation to the Goddess, a train of thought in the background begging for passerby not to notice her or speak to her. Of course, that particular prayer never works, because it feels like there’s always someone walking through the cathedral and trying to pull her into conversation, but miracles can surely still happen. 

At least once a day, someone comes by who knows her well enough to acknowledge her, and she shrinks away from calls of her name and the horror of small talk. She feels selfish for it- after all, these people are going out of their way to be polite to her, and try to be her friend, and all she wants is to shun them- but every time someone smiles at her or says her name like a friend, it makes her chest tighten and burn. She plays along nicely enough, for the most part, but as soon as the conversation is ended, she always bolts for her room, grateful for the private dormitories, and falls to her knees next to her bed, wood bruising the bone there, and begs the Goddess to make people leave her alone. No matter how many times she insists that she’s no good at this, that she’s not fun to speak with, that people should stay away from her, they still try, and she has to sob and beg for mercy from the Goddess that such brief contact with her peers leaves them unscathed. 

There are always the reoccurring faces- the Professor, Ashe, Lorenz, none of them deterred by her stuttering and tendency to literally bolt away from conversation. 

And then there is also Mercedes.

Mercedes, who spends almost as much time in the cathedral as Marianne, always near the altar, smiling serenely as she prays. They never really speak, both of them lost in their prayer, but Mercedes always seems to make a point to stand near her. It’s… companionable. Comfortable, even, which is a very strange concept to Marianne. She doesn’t ever really feel comfortable- but she doesn’t feel as nervous or ready to run when Mercedes simply quietly stands near her and prays. 

She finds herself wondering, sometimes, what the older girl prays for. She’s very openly devoted, and Marianne knows she was raised in a church for a long time, so maybe her prayers are broad. The safety of the monastery- the students at the academy, the staff, the knights, the Professor. Her mother, surely, wherever she is. Mercedes seems like the type to focus her prayers on other people, unlike Marianne, who selfishly prays- more like begs- for herself. Every word to the Goddess is a plea, begging for atonement. Release from her pain, her fear. But when Mercedes stands near her, her serenity seems contagious, and Marianne finds her thoughts and prayers aren’t quite as manic as they usually are. She likes that. She finds herself secretly hoping to be in the cathedral at the same time as Mercedes, every time she walks through the doors. That’s another mark for selfishness, on her part, she knows; but she lets herself take comfort in it because she doesn’t speak to her. As long as their interaction is limited to simply standing in close proximity, there’s no way that Marianne could cause any harm to befall the benevolent Blue Lions student. 

It’s a nice way to be. It brings a little comfort, when her waking moments are so rife with grief, her interactions with her peers always laced with fear and uncertainty, to simply stand next to someone else and breathe for once. 

And then the Professor convinces Mercedes to join the Golden Deer.

It’s a cool grey fall day, when she walks into the classroom in the morning and sees the tell-tale cascade of blonde hair standing at the front of the room. She’s talking to Hilda and Lysithea, and she laughs, the sound ringing across the stone walls and floor. Marianne feels her chest clench painfully, a small, panicked gasp escaping her mouth. She should be pleased, by all rights- Mercedes is a very kind person, and an excellent healer, to boot, as well as one of the safest people in the entire monastery. But all Marianne can think of is the poison in her blood, hushed whispers of dark tales, the low growl of a beast in her chest. She’s trembling, still barely in the doorway of the classroom, her knees weak. She’s never been so glad for her penchant for modesty and long skirts, hiding the way her knees are bumping into each other as she braces a pale hand against the wall behind her. 

She sits in the back, which is never unusual. She always takes a seat in the back, a corner if she can get there first, and places a bag in the chair next to her so that no one will think to share her desk. Of course, their class has been growing, the Professor silver-tongued and playing into the awe of the other students of the academy, coaxing people from other houses to join the Deer. 

Mercedes approaches the empty seat to her, and Marianne just barely manages to swallow the squeak of fear that threatens to escape her lips as the other girl approaches. She gives a bright smile, blue eyes bright, and takes her seat right next to Marianne. She smells like tea and flowery perfume, which is a scent she’s used to know, standing so close to her so frequently, and it traitorously calms some of the wild galloping in her chest. 

“Good morning, Marianne!” Mercedes says brightly, arranging her things on the desk in front of her. “Surprised to see me?” She giggles softly. “The Professor finally managed to convince me. Though I might have been a little easy to win over, I think. I do have a soft spot for her.” She giggles a little again.

Marianne can’t even try to smile, her body tingling with anxiety. Her fingertips feel cold and numb with her nerves, but she nods a little, dipping her head to at least acknowledge that she heard Mercedes speak. 

The other girl frowns a little, her brow furrowed as she looks at Marianne. “Marianne… are you well? You look a bit pale, dear.”

“I-I um… I’m okay. J-just not quite awake.” Luckily, her voice remains steady enough not to betray the extent of her nerves.

Mercedes brightens a little, and nods. “I understand. I’m not much of a morning person, myself. It’s terrible, I know, but I really could sleep in for quite a while, if I were permitted.”

Marianne nods again, making a small noise of agreement in her throat. Mercedes gives her a little smile, and turns to face the front of the room as the Professor blissfully greets the class and begins her lecture.

Marianne is in a daze throughout the entire day, the few notes she managed to take illegible. She skips meal times to sit on the edge of her bed and keep her panic doused, not even daring to go to the cathedral like she normally would on the breaks between lessons. She knows she’s being a coward, but she can’t help the icy shock of fear that travels down her spine as she thinks about the possibility of misfortune befalling Mercedes because of her. It’s painful to imagine, and she thought she wouldn’t have to deal with this possibility. She shouldn’t have wanted more, she knows, and this is surely her punishment for her selfish desires.

As with everything, she will have to bear it. Eventually, she’ll graduate from the Officers’ Academy and return home, and she can put this behind her. There’s less than a year until their graduation, the months wearing down, and she just has to keep her distance well enough until they can go their separate ways at the end of this, just like with everyone else. 

In the first few weeks, she’s rather successful. She interacts with Mercedes only as much as she needs to, the bare minimum that she can get away with. It’s the same way she has always gone about her time here, keeping all of her peers at an arms’ length and holding it. She’s very practiced, so it isn’t hard to accomplish. They see each other in the cathedral, and Marianne allows herself the reprieve of letting Mercedes continue to stand so close to her when they’re there at the same time. Another strike against her for selfishness, for weakness, but her presence is still soothing, no matter how much distance Marianne is trying to keep between them. 

The professor pairs them together for chores, deciding that they’re going to work together to clean the stables at the end of the week. Marianne always wishes that she could be allowed to do this by herself- she doesn’t consider it a chore in the slightest, and she likes being alone with the horses. Of course, that’s not how it works, and this isn’t the first time she’s been assigned to work with someone else to do this particular duty. But this time it’s Mercedes, who hasn’t mentioned to Marianne how she’s been avoiding her as much as possible, how short and stifled their interactions are, how they never speak in class unless absolutely necessary or Mercedes initiates the conversation. She wonders if Mercedes will mention it when they’re alone in the stables, or if she’ll have the grace not to mention it at all.

It’s a cool, dull morning on the Saturday when their assignment comes. Marianne buttons herself into a coat, bundling up a little in warmer leggings and sturdier, more worn out boots. She bundles a light scarf around her neck and head, and makes her way to the stables. She’s early- but she always is, for this particular duty. It’s barely into the afternoon, most everyone else either just going to or coming back from lunch, some even just waking up. The weekends are a little more subdued, people snatching the opportunity to rest when they can before the week starts over and they get plunged back into their duties. Marianne is thinking about the essay the class has due the next week about historical battle formations, running over sentences and ideas in her head as she settles into the stables.

She gets started by herself, not bothering to wait for her companion. It’s a little warmer in the stable than outside, so she unwinds her scarf and hangs it by the door. She smiles as she approaches the stalls, the horses nickering softly at her as she walks down the rows and gently pets their snouts. Their breath is warm and ticklish, ruffling the hair that hangs about her face, and it makes her smile. She gets to work, then, humming softly to herself as she sets about her task. Fresh water, fresh feed, going through the list of what goes where as she hauls buckets back and forth and arranges piles of straw. She never minds that the straw sticks to her clothes or gets in her hair. She doesn’t even mind the earthy, musky animal smell of the stables. It’s all comforting, warm and soft and soothing, and as she settles into the rhythm of her work, she finds herself relaxing.

“Oh, goodness, am I late?”

Mercedes’ voice rings through the mostly quiet stable, and Marianne literally jumps, letting out a high-pitched yelp that would even impress Bernadetta. She clumsily drops the bucket of water she was holding, the contents splashing onto the floor and the toes of her boots, the clanking sound echoing through the building.

“Oh! Oh Marianne, I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

Mercedes briskly walks over, gently laying a hand on Marianne’s shoulder Her eyes are wide, her cheeks a little flushed, and she looks properly chagrined, frowning a little. 

“Goodness, that was rather foolish of me, I’m so sorry, dear.”

“I-it’s alright,” Marianne manages to stutter out, once she gets her voice back and settles her heart to a more normal rhythm. “I knew you would be coming, after all- I’m just c-clumsy,” she says, her voice hushed.

“Well, I think I would have dropped the bucket too, if it had been me,” Mercedes says gently. “Did you get your clothes wet? Oh dear, what a mess I’ve made, and I just walked in the door!”

“N-no, it just got on my shoes a little, is all,” she says quietly. “Really, it’s my own fault.”

Mercedes is still frowning. She shakes her head a little, brows lightly pinched. “Don’t blame yourself, dear, really. At least you’re alright, outside of the little fright I gave you. How long have you been here?”

“Oh! I um, I came in early.” She’s a little sheepish as she speaks, suddenly embarrassed. She feels her cheeks warm under Mercedes’ cool, blue gaze. “I haven’t done too much on my own, really. B-but I um, I always come in early for um, stable duty.”

Mercedes smiles. “Yes, you do like the horses, don’t you? Well, I’m glad I’m not late, though I hate the idea of not being here to give you a hand when you got started.”

“It’s fine. Really, I don’t mind doing a little work by myself. Um, not here, anyway.”

“Well, I’m here now, so why don’t you point me in the right direction?” She asks sweetly. “Tell me where I can get started.”

Marianne swallows and takes a second to compose herself before speaking again, but she finds the strength to quietly and quickly tell Mercedes what had already been done and what needed doing to finish the job. Mercedes gives a resolute nod and goes about her tasks, leaving Marianne to her own devices, thankfully. They work in companionable silence, only broken by the sounds of the horses, people passing outside, or one of them speaking gently to the animals as they tend them, moving about their stalls and brushing them down. Marianne is trying to work a particularly stubborn knot out of a mare’s mane as gently as she can when Mercedes approaches her again, leaning against the door of the stall. Marianne watches out of the corner of her eye, as Mercedes gently pets the mare’s snout and coos at her.

“Do you have a lot of horses at home?” She asks.

Ah- conversation that doesn’t revolve around their work. Personal questions. Marianne feels her chest tighten a little with anxiety, glad her face is mostly hidden by the angle she’s standing at as she works the comb through the horse’s mane. 

“A few,” she says quietly. “My adoptive father has his own private stable for his horses, and I have one of my own, on the estate.”

It’s the nicest thing he has ever given her. Her discomfort had always been so obvious to him, and it took a long time for Margrave Edmund to even begin to crack her shell, when she had been adopted by him and taken into his home. He wasn’t exactly the warmest man in the world, but he was never cruel to her, and he did try to make her comfortable. During her second year in the home, he had urged her to come outside one bright summer afternoon, his eyes brighter than she had ever seen them. She had timidly followed, and he took her to the stables, where he showed her a beautiful Almyran Chestnut. She was a stout, bright-eyed mare that Marianne instantly loved. She had burst into immediate tears, and it was the first time she had ever hugged her adoptive father. The mare’s name was Hydrangea, for Marianne’s favorite flowers that grew in wild bushes near the edge of the estate, and she was a gentle, loving thing. Marianne missed her terribly, here all the way in Garreg Mach, but she knew she was being taken excellent care of at home. 

“I’ve never had a horse of my own,” Mercedes says, shaking Marianne from her thoughts. “I was a little intimidated by them at first, but they’re very gentle creatures.”

“They’re sensitive,” Marianne finds herself saying. “A lot of people don’t really know that, but horses are just as sensitive as dogs or cats. They’re very loving, and emotional. They’re good listeners, and they’re very intuitive. That’s why it’s so hard for some people to ride, when they first start, because the horses sense your nervousness and it makes them skittish, too. They’re very intuitive.”

“You’re so good with them, Marianne.”

She blushes at the compliment, turning her face to try to hide it from her companion. She finally manages to get the knot out of the horse’s mane, and she lovingly pats her neck down as she finishes.

“There you are, darling.” she tells the horse gently. “Nice and beautiful.”

She puts the brush up and turns to see Mercedes smiling warmly at her. It makes her chest ache, her cheeks heating up again, and she ducks her head down, staring at her feet.

“I think we’ve earned ourselves a nice lunch,” Mercedes says, lightly clapping. “I could really go for some tea, too- it’s very cold today.”

Marianne can’t help but agree. She supposes that she has to resign herself to sharing her meal with Mercedes. She wishes the prospect weren’t so utterly frightening. Mercedes is trying to be nice, and companionable, and it’s natural to her to want to spend time with Marianne and chat after completing their chores, but all Marianne wants to do is run away to her room and lock herself behind her door. She recites a mantra of silent prayer in her head as she and Mercedes bundle back up to exit the stables, giving a fond wave to the horses as they go.

Don’t let me hurt her, she begs the Goddess in the privacy of her head as they make their way to the dining hall. She’s just being kind to me. She wants to be my friend. Don’t let her, don’t let her- Goddess, Mother, don’t let her see. 

It’s a short walk to the dining hall, and as they enter the building, they’re greeted with a rush of warmth. Mercedes sighs contentedly as the doors close behind them, finally cutting them off from the chill outside. She gives Marianne a tiny smile before walking forward, and she follows the older girl in silence, wringing her hands and strangle her pale fingers as they walk. It smells wonderful, and Marianne’s stomach not so gently reminds her that she hasn’t eaten yet today. She suddenly feels fatigued, the physical work of the day coupled with the cold outside and the lack of food settling into her body uncomfortably. Mercedes chooses seats for them, and Marianne doesn’t even pay attention, really, automatically going through the motions of shedding her outer layers so they can make their way to the front of the room and get their food.

The dining hall is a little on the emptier side, the hour getting late for lunch, and she’s grateful for the lack of company. It’s hard enough that Mercedes wants to be her companion for this meal, and she knows it would be too much if someone else were to try to join them. 

They get their food and head to their seats. Marianne sighs a little as she takes the first spoonful of her stew, savoring the warmth as it travels through her. The food here has always been good, and it definitely feels good after a long morning of working in the cold. Initially, they’re quiet, the both of them obviously hungry and trying to warm up, but it isn’t long before Mercedes breaks the silence.

“You should come have tea with me,” she says, turning to flash Marianne a smile. “I’ve got a few extra honey cakes I baked with Annette, too, and I think they just sound lovely right now. We earned, them, don’t you think? A little treat after our hard work.”

Marianne swallows hard. “Oh, I… um, thank you, but no thank you,” she says her voice quiet as per usual. “Really, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It’s not an intrusion if I invite you, silly.” Her tone is kind, gentle. “It’s not a bother at all, I promise. I love the company, and Annette ate too many of those cakes anyway- she insisted that she can’t even look at them anymore. She does love to indulge, that silly girl,” she says with a fond shake of her head. “So really, you would be helping the both of us out. Besides, I like to share anyway.”

“That’s very kind of you, but, um, I really shouldn’t.” She keeps her eyes on her bowl, refusing to look at her companion and see the disappointment she’s sure is clouding the other girl’s gaze.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Oh, um, I’m fine,” she says. “I just. Um, I don’t really think it’s a good idea. To, um. To spend time with me.”

“Is that why you haven’t been speaking to me?” Mercedes asks quietly. Marianne nods, but doesn’t dare look at her. “I thought… I thought once I joined the Golden Deer, we might actually be able to talk. We only ever seemed to run into each other in the cathedral, and I would never interrupt someone during prayer, but I thought maybe we would talk outside of there.” She pauses, and Marianne glances out of the corner of her eye to see that she’s set her spoon down, ignoring her meal in favor of conversation. “Have I… have I done something wrong?”

That makes her look up. Her eyes are wide, panic shooting through her chest sharply. “No, no, of course not! You’ve never been anything but perfectly kind and civil to me, Mercedes. It’s… it’s me, that’s in the wrong, not you.” She looks back down, staring at her fingers in her lap, shame and self-loathing making the stew in her gut feel uncomfortable heavy. “I’m… I’m not the kind of person you would want to be friends with.”

Mercedes’ mouth tugs into a frown. “And why not?”

“I… I’m not good,” she says quietly. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Mercedes- that no one does- and it’s better if you don’t. All you need to know is that my presence in your life would be nothing but a burden and a misfortune. You’ve been very kind to me, and I appreciate that, but it’s a wasted effort, on someone like me. It’s better for you to keep your distance and forget about me.”

An actual gasp leaves Mercedes, and Marianne glances at her to see her eyes wide, and shining with unshed tears. An ache rips through her chest, and she covers her mouth, horrified. She stands quickly, and snatches her things off of her chair, bolting from the dining hall before she can cause any more damage. She feels embarrassed, ashamed of having left her dishes sitting there, leaving Mercedes sitting there, but she can’t face the hurt she’d just caused her classmate through her admission.

It’s better this way, she tells herself as tears sting their way down her cold cheeks while she runs across the cobblestones to the dormitories, frantic. It’s like ripping off a bandage to ease the sting in the end. She cuts things off now, before Mercedes gets comfortable in her impression that Marianne is a good person, and she spares her a world of grief later. This is the best way, and it always has been.

When she gets to her room, she slams the door shut, her fingers shaking as she locks it tight. She drops her things on the floor, her face and hands stinging from the cold, and she slides gracelessly to the floor, slumped against the door and curling in on herself. Sobs make her body heave, her whole frame trembling, and she can’t stop the flood of tears or shame that fills her to the brim as she sits on the cold, hard floor of her room. She can’t get the look on Mercedes’ face out of her head, and it makes her cry harder, her chest aching. 

She takes out her little silver medallion emblazoned with the symbol of Seiros, and rubs her fingers against it as she sobs painfully. 

It’s not fair. It’s never fair- people try to be kind to her, try to be her friend, and she has to push them away because all she does is bring suffering. And she doesn’t want to live this way, but there’s no other choice. What kind of person would she be if she allowed the people around her to befall tragedy, knowing that she was the cause? It would make her more of a monster than she already is, and she won’t stand for it. She’s done enough wrong, and she won’t do any more, if she can help it. 

She sits against her door and cries and prays. As awful as this feels, she prays that it’s enough to keep Mercedes away from her. If she knows what’s good for her, maybe she’ll keep her distance now, and Marianne won’t have to feel so bad. Unfortunately, though, the prospect of Mercedes keeping that distance makes her ache all the same. It’s a double-edged sword, constantly swinging and cutting at her flesh, leaving her bruised and bloodied. If people stay away from her like she tells them too, they’re less likely to come upon misfortune by her hand. But if they stay away, it also leaves her isolated, drifting, always alone at the end of the day.

She sees how everyone around her is forming meaningful friendships, relationships, thriving together. There’s a part of her, even after all these years, that still longs for that for herself. In a dream world, she has a normal crest, or even better yet, no crest to speak of at all. She strays away from the thought that having been born in the first place would have been even better, but it still lingers in the back, the way it always does. 

Class after that fateful afternoon is agonizing. Mercedes doesn’t try to approach her again, but she still sits next to her during lectures, and Marianne always finds her coming to stand near her when they’re both in the cathedral together. She knows without asking that Mercedes is probably praying for her, about her and their fateful conversation. She can’t stand the thought, as terrible as that is- her prayers are wasted, she knows, and it fills her with disgust and self-loathing.

Word travels fast, at the Officers’ Academy, and Marianne finds herself being invited to tea by the professor at the end of the week. Her dark eyes are as earnest and placid as they always are when she approaches her outside of the stables and asks her to join her for her afternoon tea. Her first instinct, as it always is, is to refuse, but the professor has a soothing presence, so she ducks her head in a shy nod and allows herself to be lead. 

The professor holds tea in her own private quarters today, the air outside much too cold to have it in the courtyard where she normally would. Marianne feels a little awkward, sitting in her professor’s private bedroom, but she’s thankful to be out of the cold, so she tries to tamp the feeling down. They settle in, and the professor quietly pours their tea. She can’t keep the smile from her face when she realizes that it’s lavender, her favorite. She takes the cup and just savors the warmth against her fingers and the fragrance, waiting for it to cool a little before she tries to sip from it. 

It’s quiet, at first, the professor stirring sugar into her tea, and Marianne nibbles on a little shortbread biscuit, a hand clenched in her skirt. She can tell that the professor wants to say something, and she’s bracing herself for it. Surely, it’s an admonishment of some sort, and she wracks her brain trying to remember what she might have done wrong recently.

“Marianne.” The professor’s voice is very gentle, and quiet. 

She looks up from the table, meeting her teacher’s eyes. The other woman’s gaze is gentle, her face smooth.

“You’re not in trouble,” she says to start. Marianne releases a breath. “For one, I wanted to see how you’re doing, since we haven’t sat down together in a while. For another.. Mercedes spoke to me about what you said to her over this past weekend.” She pauses to sip her tea, while Marianne squirms in her chair. “She told me that she was worried about what you said to her- about how she shouldn’t be friends with you.” And now, she sets her teacup down to look directly at Marianne, who, despite her nerves, can’t look away from her. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard something like this. You’ve said similar things to me yourself. Marianne… we care about you. You know that, right?”

She swallows painfully, a hand clenched in her skirt. “I appreciate that,” she says slowly, her throat dry. “I do. But I’m doing what’s best for the people around me. You have to understand, professor, that I’m not just- just making things up. I’m trying to protect people. I’m not any good to be around.”

The professor shakes her head. “Marianne, you’re a perfectly nice person. You’re quiet, yes, but you’re very kind to people. You have a good demeanor. It’s not wrong for people to want to be friends with you.”

“But it is,” she says weakly, and she feels tears burning in her eyes. “There’s something wrong with me, professor, and I shouldn’t expose people to it. I appreciate that they want to be friends with me, but they just can’t. They shouldn’t, and I won’t let them. I have to protect them.”

“From yourself?” The question is like a razor.

She nods weakly, and stands from her chair. Her tea is untouched, cooling in its cup, her biscuit only missing a few crumbs from her nervous nibbling. She’s already walking towards the door, her chest tight. 

“I have to go.”

The professor doesn’t stop her as she leaves the room, bolting in the other direction towards her own room. She walks at a brisk pace, frantic, like she’s being chased. When she makes it to her room, the door shut and locked tight behind her, she finally allows herself to cry, rubbing her fists angrily across her eyes as she weeps. She doesn’t want to cry, she’s sick of it, but she can’t get the professor’s words out of her head, nor the look on Mercedes’ face when she’d told her to leave her alone. 

It takes a while for her to compose herself, but one she does, she makes her way to the cathedral. She would prefer to stay in her room, locked behind her door in privacy in case she cries again, but she feels better offering prayers in the sanctuary, and she definitely needs to pray. She makes her way to the cathedral, and as soon as she steps inside, she feels a little soothed, the familiar place easing some of the tension from her shoulders.

It’s late into the evening on a weekday, so there’s not too many people outside the normal staff inside. There are a few people sitting in pews, and one or two standing near the altar, but it’s mostly blissfully empty. The scent of the incense they keep lit hits her nose, and she breathes it in. Normally, she would stand in the front, near the altar. But today, she allows herself to sit, taking a seat in an unoccupied pew right in the front row. She slumps into it a little, breathing deeply as she gets into position and starts to pray.

Time seems to become irrelevant, whenever she’s here. After some time, she hears footsteps near, but she doesn’t stop her train of thought, lips moving to silently mouth her prayers as she tries to lift them to the ears of the Goddess. She hears the bench creak and feels that someone is sitting next to her, and she finally opens her eyes, glancing to the side to see that it’s Mercedes that’s come to sit beside her.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says quietly. “I won’t bother you. But I didn’t want you to be alone, when I saw that you were here. Maybe you don’t want to be my friend, but… we can have this, I think. Just two people enjoying the presence of the Goddess together. Is that okay?”

Marianne can’t speak, really, any words she might have been able to conjure stuck in her throat. She simply nods, a tiny, quick thing, but she can see the smile that spreads across Mercedes’ face at the sight.

“That’s all I need, then, I think,” she says thoughtfully. Her eyes are turned towards the altar, the flickering candles and glittering filigree. “Until you’re ready to open your heart to me, I’ll be right here, Marianne. And then I can be your friend.”

Marianne swallows hard, a sudden lump in her throat. She feels errant tears slip out of her eyes and down her cheeks, and she doesn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed about it, keeping her eyes cast and her hands folded. Mercedes is quiet, now, and they fall into their routine. Both of them praying, both of them thinking, the world slowing to a soft, quiet crawl around them. She doesn’t know how long the both of them sit together like this, in their usual silent and pious manner. But it’s nice. Eventually, she stops crying, dried tears leaving her cheeks sticky, but she doesn’t think about it. She’ll take care of it when she’s finished.

The bells toll the hour, and she realizes it’s very late into the evening. She blinks as if she’s waking from sleep, and lifts her head. She sees Mercedes still sitting next to her, though she’s sitting casually rather than in a pose of prayer.

“I ought to get to bed, I think,” she says nonchalantly. “I don’t want to have too much trouble getting myself up for class in the morning.” She turns to look at Marianne, and gives her a small smile. “Try to get some rest, please. Have some water before bed. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

She stands, and instead of turning towards the aisle and the door, she steps in front of Marianne. She bends a little, and they’re face to face, Marianne blinking owlishly in her surprise. Mercedes is smiling warmly at her. She brushes a thumb across her cheek, and it’s warm and soft, and makes her gasp. 

“Take care of yourself. Goodnight, Marianne.”

She presses her lips to Marianne’s forehead, and she feels like she’s been hit with a particularly good Thoron spell. It’s over just as quickly as it began, Mercedes brushing her bangs back before she stands and turns around, walking herself out the door at a casual pace. Marianne watches her go with wide, wet eyes, her cheeks burning, her forehead tingling where the other girl’s lips touched the skin there.

She goes quickly back to her room and immediately dressed and gets into bed. She’s trembling, she realizes now, her cheeks still hot. She touches her forehead, brushing her fingers against the skin there, and buries herself under the blankets, feeling like she could light a blaze with the force of her flush.

Her dreams are filled with hymns and a knowing, full-lipped smile.

+

It’s as if a dam has broken inside of Marianne. She yearns, more fiercely than she ever has, to put her fears aside and reach out her hands for friendship. The weeks slip by, and she allows herself to have more conversations with her peers. She likes them all so much, and she finds herself feeling more and more confident in speaking to them. She still thinks they all ought to keep their distance, and she reminds them as much frequently, but she lets them talk to her more often.

It feels better than she expected, to allow them in, even a little bit. Of course, none of them know the truth about her crest, and she’ll keep it that way if she has anything to say about it, but it’s nice to pretend occasionally that she’s a normal person worthy of these sorts of conversations, and even the buds of friendship. Lorenz is particularly gallant to her, which surprises her endlessly, but she finds a lot of fondness for him. She finds a lot of fondness for all of her classmates, finding warmth in letting them pull her into conversation and be nice to her. 

Three weeks after her disastrous lunch with Mercedes, the professor pairs them to do weeding together. Marianne resolves that she’s not going to run away this time, and goes into the morning of with a fragile confidence. Mercedes is all smiles, as per usual, and she greets Marianne with a cheerfulness that still feels jarring, but she returns her companion’s smile as best as she can.

They get started, making a little small talk, but both of them are concentrating a lot on their work, focused on the task of pulling the weeds from between the more delicate plants and trying to uproot them from the soil they’re so stubbornly planted in. it’s hard work, which keeps their hands and minds occupied enough that Marianne doesn’t really have to worry about any conversation. She’s resolved to speak to Mercedes if she does initiate conversation, but she can’t help the undercurrent of anxiety that’s running through her all the same. Despite their brief conversation in the cathedral, there’s still fear plaguing that Marianne that Mercedes might be angry with her for how their last real conversation went. 

Their work is spent quietly, and when they finish, Mercedes lets out a long sigh, wiping sweat from her brow and dusting her hands off on her skirts. She turns to Marianne and gives her a smile, bright and charming. 

“Would you like to have tea with me, Marianne?” She asks.

Marianne blinks. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised by the invitation, but she finds herself feeling that way, anyway. She wipes her own hands off, dusting any lingering dirt from her skin, and bites her lip. She wants to say yes. She should say yes. Her chest flutters nervously at the thought, but she really does want to do this. And she owes it to Mercedes, after the way she had been treating her. So, she takes a deep breath and gives a tiny nod.

“That would be nice,” she says quietly.

Mercedes claps in delight. “Oh, wonderful! Let’s go get cleaned up, and we can go ahead. I’ve got my own things in my room, so we don’t have to sit in the dining hall, if you’d prefer somewhere more quiet.”

The idea of being alone with Mercedes is more than a little intimidating, but there is appeal in being away from other sets of eyes and people who might try to speak with her, so she nods again, a quick thing.

“That’s fine.”

They make their way across the grounds, stopping to wash their hands and get the rest of the dirt off of their skin. Mercedes hums cheerfully as she leads Marianne to the dormitories, going at a leisurely pace. The chill of winter is still heavy, so they’re not walking too slowly, but they’re not in a particular hurry. The thrum of anxiety in Marianne’s chest isn’t as strong as it normally would be, and she’s grateful for it. It’s pleasant, the two of them walking in companionable silence as they make their way to Mercedes’ room. 

She opens the door for Marianne, letting her go in first, and she ducks her head shyly as she steps inside. Mercedes hums a little as she starts to take off her outer layers, the warmth of the room already settling in with the door shut tight behind them. Marianne stands sort of awkwardly by the desk, clutching at the hem of her coat a little tightly. Mercedes turns to her and smiles.

“You can sit anywhere you like,” she says. “I can get things set up and then we can sit together- but in the mean time, you can have a seat in the desk chair if you want to.”

Marianne nods and does just that, slipping her coat off. Mercedes primly snatches it from her and hangs it on one of the hooks by her door, next to her own coat. She flashes another smile as she bustles about the room, gathering her tea set and a small tin tray of sweets. There’s a small table in the corner that she pulls out, along with an extra chair, and she begins to set things on it. It’s reminiscent of the table and chairs the professor has in her room for when she does her tea time in there. Marianne wonders just how many people here have similar set-ups.

“I-is there anything I can do to help?” Marianne asks quietly.

“There’s not much to do, honestly. Thank you for the offer, though. Here- come pull your chair over, and we can sit together.”

Marianne nods and does as she’s told, while Mercedes pours water from a pitcher near her bed into the teapot, humming a little as she does. She brings it to the table, and sets it on a small single burner. With the flick of a weak fire spell, she lights the flame, setting the water to boil. Marianne watches with interest, quiet. She feels like she should strike up conversation, but she doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent. She doesn’t have to sit in agony for long, though, because Mercedes speaks up.

“What’s your favorite kind of tea?”

“Oh! Um, I like lavender,” she says softly.

“I think I might have some! Let me see.” She looks through a little tin of tea pouches, shuffling through the bags. It’s fragrant, a blend of different smells wafting from the little box. She fingers through the different bags, and makes a sound of triumph when she finds what she’s looking for. 

She holds up a little bag of tea, smiling brightly. “I knew I still had some left.”

“Oh, we don’t have to use that one,” Marianne says, flushing.

“Nonsense. You’re my guest, so it’s only polite to make you something you’ll enjoy. Besides, lavender is nice. It’s very soothing. I usually keep some on hand, in case I happen to have an off day. It helps me relax when it’s been a long week.”

“It is very soothing,” Marianne says with a nod.

Mercedes smiles, and drops the bag into the teapot. She arranges some of the sweets out on little plates, and opens a small tin of sugar. It’s quiet as she goes about setting things up, rearranging them and settling everything. The silence doesn’t feel oppressive, though it does make Marianne feel a little awkward; but unfortunately that’s par for the course, for her. 

“I was sort of surprised that you accepted my invitation,” Mercedes says quietly. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you would, after last time, but… I wanted to try again. And I’m glad you came.” 

Marianne watches as Mercedes pours them their tea, her movement delicate and practiced. She feels warmth in her cheeks at her words, even though she anticipated this sort of speech. Still, she can’t keep the embarrassment away.

“I… I wasn’t very nice to you, last time,” Marianne says, looking down at the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but… it’s very hard for me to, um, interact with people.”

“I’m not angry with you, if you were afraid of that.”

Marianne looks up that, blinking in surprise. Mercedes is looking right at her, her expression open and soft. She stirs sugar into her tea as she speaks, still looking at her. 

“It was a little hurtful, to be rejected, but I was never angry about it. I was just worried. You… you think so little of yourself, Marianne. I’d heard, of course, the stories of you telling people not to be friends with you, but hearing it directly from you was more jarring than I anticipated. It was painful to think that you think so little of yourself that you think you have to warn people about wanting to be your friend.”

She wrings her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers about themselves in a tangle. She bites her lip, cheeks warmed, feeling chagrined and embarrassed. There’s a hot flood of shame that rips through her chest. She swallows heavily, and makes herself look at Mercedes again, who still looks as gentle and placid as ever.

“I won’t pretend to know everything, and I won’t pry,” Mercedes says, gentle as ever. “I won’t ever ask you to tell me things that you’re uncomfortable with. But I want you to know that whatever is plaguing you… you’re allowed to have friends. And if you think that being your friend comes with some sort of hardship… well, I’ll bear that burden. That’s what you do when you care for someone, isn’t it? You shoulder both the good and the bad. Though I don’t think being your friend could ever be so terrible.”

She blushes fiercely, feeling pierced through by Mercedes’ cool, soft gaze.

“I… no one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” she says, and it comes out in a whisper. “Most people just… take my word for it. Not many people have ever really tried to get close to me, after I tell them not to.”

“I can tell how much that hurts you, Marianne.”

She nods, and finds the energy to begin stirring sugar into her own tea, focusing on the physical act of it so she doesn’t become overwhelmed with her emotion. Her throat already feels tight.

“It’s… it’s for the best. Maybe I, um… maybe I’ll tell you about it someday. But I can’t right now.”

“That’s okay.” She’s so gentle, as always, as if she’s incapable of any other sort of response. “We all have burdens, Marianne. No one is perfect, you know? And we all have things that hurt us, and hurt others, but… you don’t have to do it alone. And you’ve been alone for a very long time.”

She feels a tear slide down her cheek, unbidden. She bites at the inside of her cheeks, trying to will the dam not to break, and she startles as she feels one of Mercedes’ hands settle gently on top of hers. Mercedes wraps her hand around Marianne’s, and she’s holding it. Marianne doesn’t remember the last time someone held her hand- not since she was a child. Her mother was the last person to hold her hand, she knows, but it was so long ago that she can’t even put a number of years to it. She swallows hard, heart hammering wildly in her chest. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers hoarsely.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to be alone. I want to be your friend, Marianne, and I don’t care what comes with that. No one deserves to shoulder all of their burdens by themselves.”

“I… I have the Goddess.”

Mercedes nods. “You do. We all do. She watches over us, and she gives us guidance and strength when we need it, but we need other people, too. The Goddess knows this, and that’s why She brings people together. I’m starting to think that She brought me to you, Marianne.”

Marianne audibly gasps at this, more tears sliding down her cheeks. This is unprecedented. No one has ever seemed to care for her so much, aside from her parents. How long has it been since she’s felt so… seen? So loved? She swallows hard, and squeezes Mercedes’ hand. 

“No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“Well, I certainly hope I won’t be the last. I think you’re wonderful, Marianne. I truly do.”

Mercedes manages to help her calm down as they sip their tea, and she fills the rest of their time with stories about her mother, and the church she lived in, and the children there. She regales Marianne with funny stories about the young children, jokes her mother told, cooking mishaps. By the time the remnants of their tea is cold, it’s time for lunch, and the small room is ringing with giggles. Mercedes convinces Marianne to go to lunch with her, and they spend their meal continuing their conversation, Mercedes making Marianne giggle into her stew the entire time. 

She can’t remember the last time she felt this way, or laughed this much in a single day. Mercedes is so patient with her, and makes her smile so easily. She doesn’t know if she’s ever had something like this before, and it feels… better than she could have imagined. The fear still lingers, and she knows her prayers for protection will be more fervent in the days to come, but she finds she can brush it aside for a while when she’s with Mercedes, laughing and smiling and talking like a normal person. 

It’s a strange new feeling, allowing someone to be so close. But it encourages her to open up all around, and she finds herself becoming even more engaged with her classmates. It’s a strange, but wonderful change of pace. 

Mercedes is unlike anyone Marianne has ever met. She’s much kinder than possibly anyone else she’s ever met, even in the face of frustration or hardship. When Laurenz gets injured during a battle against bandits and snaps rather viciously at her while she heals him, she just keeps her serene face on and continues her work, all the while gently whispering encouragements to him. He apologizes to her later, once he’s coherent and no longer blinded by his pain, and she takes it graciously. Marianne knows she wouldn’t have been able to keep her head, if someone had snapped at her that way. Sylvain continuously flirts with her, always making comments that would make Marianne want to duck behind the nearest object, and Mercedes just turns her small, serene smile on him, nods, and goes about her business. She’s never seen someone who keeps her composure so well, aside from maybe the professor, though she’s not even sure how much she counts, since she’s so quiet all the time. 

She persists in singling out Marianne for the hand of friendship, and although it makes her anxious and flushed and nervous, she allows it. It feels nice, to be friends with Mercedes. They study together, have tea together, and slowly, Marianne starts to break down some of her walls.

Mercedes takes her aside one afternoon, and along with Annette, shows her how to bake some of her favorite sweets. Annette is bright and energetic, and makes up for Marianne’s quiet as the three of them work together in the kitchen. She’s nervous, at the beginning, especially being around Annette, since they don’t know each other as well, but by the time they finish she’s laughing and smiling and definitely has a new friend. The tea cakes that Marianne baked turned out well, and she’s proud of her work, blushing and stammering when Mercedes brightly compliments her on it. 

She takes Mercedes to the stables and introduces her properly to Dorte. She’s as gentle as ever with the horse, and he takes to her immediately, which makes something in Marianne’s chest flutter warmly. They spend a balmy spring afternoon playing with him, brushing down his coat and his mane, and Marianne finds herself quietly telling Mercedes about the horse, and how she likes to talk to him. She tells her about the birds, and the cats and dogs, and how so many of them know her secrets and feelings. Instead of being bewildered or put off by this information, Mercedes gets excited and eagerly asks her for more details.

As the winter starts to come to a close, they announce a ball. Marianne has never been to an event like this, and the little girl inside of her is excited at the prospect, while the rest of her is… much less enthusiastic. She doesn’t really like the idea of being around so many people, with the chance of anyone paying particular attention to her, but the professor and her classmates seem more than thrilled. 

“You’re going, aren’t you, Marianne?” Mercedes asks her over tea and revising essays. 

She blushes a little. “I… I’m not sure. I suppose I’ll have to, but admittedly, I’m not particularly keen. The idea makes me nervous.”

“It will be fun!” Mercedes quips brightly. “There’ll be music, and tasty treats, and we’ll get to spend time with the other students, too! Oh, and the White Heron Cup! I’m looking forward to seeing Laurenz put his gold where his mouth is and how well he can actually dance.” She takes a sip of her tea, giggling into her cup. She gasps, setting her cup down a little forcefully, and leans forward on the small table. “Oh, Marianne- you should let me do your makeup for the ball! I have some colors that would look so stunning on you!”

Her face gets hot again, and she raises her hands, waving them in a gesture of surrender. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,” she says, voice small in her wave of anxiety. “I-I wouldn’t look good.”

“Nonsense! Oh, you’re so beautiful already, Marianne, and you would look amazing with some makeup! I promise I won’t do anything extravagant, because that’s not your style, but I’d love to highlight your beautiful face with some color.”

Marianne feels her cheeks get even hotter, which she wasn’t sure was possible, and her hands dorp into her lap like rocks. “Y-you think I’m beautiful, Mercedes?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Oh, of course! Marianne, I think you’re one of the most beautiful girls here.”

A tiny gasp leaves her, unbidden, and Mercedes giggles at her bashfulness. She sits properly in her chair again, and graces Marianne with one of her brightest smiles.

“You say that to all the girls, I’m sure,” Marianne says softly.

She shakes her head, in a move that surprises Marianne. “I don’t,” she says. “I’m being perfectly honest with you. You’re so beautiful, Marianne. I really do mean that! You have such pretty eyes, and great skin, and your hair is so lovely. You really are a beauty.”

“O-oh. I don’t know what to say to that,” she says sheepishly. “No one… no one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“Well, isn’t that just a shame.” She leans forward a little again, and smiles. “Can I do your makeup? Please? I give you my word it won’t be anything over the top.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip, twisting her fingers in her lap. Surely, it couldn’t hurt to have Mercedes do this for her. Clearly, it would make her happy, and really, there’s no one else Marianne would trust to do this, except maybe Annette. She takes a deep breath.

“I… alright. I’ll let you.”

Mercedes claps her hands in delight. “Oh, yay! I’m so excited for this! You’re going to look wonderful.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Mercedes beams.

+

On the evening of the ball, Marianne makes her way to Mercedes’ room. After knocking softly twice, the door opens to her smiling face. Annette is sitting on the foot of the bed, and smiles and waves when she sees her in the doorway. Marianne gives her own shy wave in response, and Mercedes ushers her in excitedly.

“Marianne!” Annette gasps. “Oh, this is so nice! Man, if only we managed to convince Ingrid to join us!”

Mercedes laughs. “We might just get her one day, yet.” She smiles at Marianne. “Have a seat in the desk chair, dear, and we’ll get started. 

Marianne is mostly dressed already, but the other two girls are still in their underclothes, wearing their slips and tights and not much else. She blushes a little, feeling embarrassed at being so overdressed, but she did have to leave her own room to come here, and Mercedes and Annette have known each other much longer and are surely plenty comfortable enough to be so dressed down around each other. 

She does as she’s told and has a seat in the desk chair, which has been turned to face the room. Annette goes back to her makeup, humming to herself as she swirls the brushes across her face. This is a foreign art to Marianne, and she’s almost fascinated by the process. She wonders who taught Annette and Mercedes to do their makeup, or if they taught themselves out of a desire to use it. Marianne should probably know, as the daughter of a noble house, but she shudders at the thought of purposely trying to draw extra attention to herself. She’s not even that keen on doing it for tonight, but she’s weak and can’t refuse Mercedes anything she asks. 

Mercedes approaches her with a handful of items, setting them on the desk behind her. She flashes a smile, and takes a moment to look over Marianne’s face. She can’t meet her eyes, blushing as she casts her gaze to the floor, and Mercedes hums a little.

“Okay. I know just the colors I want to use for you.”

She looks up, then, and watches as Mercedes takes a brush and swirls it against one of her palettes. She doesn’t even really pay attention to the color, focusing instead on Mercedes’ movements as she begins her work. She’s focused, her brow furrowed slightly as she begins to move the brush. 

“Close your eyes for me,” she says softly.

Marianne is almost sad to obey, but her eyes fall closed anyway. She feels the brush against her eyelid, and it’s a very light sensation- almost ticklish. She holds still as Mercedes works. The room is fairly quiet, aside from Annette’s humming, but Marianne doesn’t mind. It soothes her nerves, edging away the anxiety she experienced from putting herself in this position, and she finds herself relaxing as she lets Mercedes do as she will. Mercedes and Annette chat idly with each other while they work, and Marianne is content to just listen to them, their conversation background noise. 

Even when she no longer feels the brush on her eyes, Marianne keeps them closed. The sensation of the brushes against her skin is almost soothing, and she likes just sitting there quietly, letting it happen while the other two girls chat in the background. It feels nice. 

It’s over much more quickly than she would have anticipated. The brushes go away, and Mercedes cheerfully tells Marianne to open her eyes. She slowly blinks them open to find Mercedes smiling widely at her. Annette jumps off the bed and springs over excitedly.

“Oooh, great work, Mercie!” She says, clapping her hands. “Marianne, you look so pretty!”

“I did do a good job,” Mercedes says brightly. “It’s all come together. You look wonderful!”

Marianne feels heat flood her cheeks, and she looks to the floor in embarrassment. “Th-thank you,” she says helpfully to her shoes.

Mercedes giggles softly, and scoots her chair to the desk. There’s a small mirror there, and she adjusts it before taking the brushes to her own face. Marianne looks up from the corner of her eye, watching Mercedes work. She handles the brushes delicately, with sure hands. She has pretty fingers, which is perhaps an odd thing to think, but they’re soft and slender and have perfectly manicured nails at the end, and they just look nice holding her makeup brushes so confidently and delicately. Marianne finds herself swallowing a little harder than normal, and she tears her eyes away, casting them back to the floor. The toes of her dress boots have never been more fascinating.

The other two girls finish their makeup and finish getting dressed, pulling on their dress uniforms. Annette spends a moment picking lint off of Mercedes’ sleeve, and they turn to Marianne, both of them looking excited.

“We all look so pretty!” Annette coos. “Oh, this is so exciting- we’re gonna have so much fun tonight.”

“I have to admit that I’m pretty excited,” Mercedes says gently. “It’ll be a nice change of pace. We can all have fun together.”

“Who are you gonna dance with, Mercie?” Annette asks.

Ah, yes. The question of dancing. Marianne doesn’t even hear Mercedes answer Annette, her heart crawling into her throat at the prospect of someone asking her to dance. As with anything, she’ll very politely and swiftly turn them down, but the thought of making a scene or someone trying to force her hand makes her stomach churn with anxiety. 

She snaps out of her reverie as Mercedes gently touches her elbow, giving her a tiny smile.

“Are you ready, Marianne?”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak just yet, and Mercedes gives her a reassuring squeeze. The three of them head out into the cooling evening air, the sky radiant with the colors of the setting sun. Annette keeps up a steady stream of chatter as the three girls make their way to the main building of the monastery, their boots clicking pleasantly against the stone pathways. There’s a stream of students all around them, all of them dressed in their formal regalia, chattering excitedly. Once they reach the main hall, they walk into a burst of light and sound, and Marianne’s eyes widen a little, unbidden. She’s not sure she’s ever seen so many of the people at the monastery gathered together at once outside of church services. There’s light music playing in the background, and the sounds of conversation and laughter echo through the hall. 

There’s no clear dividing line of separate classes, everyone mingling together. It’s nice to see, and it adds to the festive atmosphere. Annette claps her hands delightedly as they walk further into the hall, taking in the sight.

“Oh, this is so nice! Wow!”

“They did a wonderful job,” Mercedes says.

Marianne just nods, letting her eyes wander across the expanse of the place. They make their way through the crowd, just taking in the sights of the ball, when a hush falls over the crowd. The house leaders come out, and begin the dancing. Marianne watches the three of them move across the floor, looking beautiful and pleasant, and finds herself slinking into the shadows and away from her companions. It’s easy to find the back walls, where the crowd has thinned out and there are little shadows and corners she can tuck herself in away from everyone else. She feels like she can breathe a little more, once she’s tucked herself away, and contents herself to spend the rest of the evening right there. 

The crowd ebbs and flows as people take to the dance floor once the house leaders finish their opening waltz, and Marianne watches them all move about. The music in the background is pleasant, and it helps her relax slightly as she watches. No one pays her any mind as they move about, which is perfectly fine by her. She feels a little bad from slipping away from Mercedes and Annette, but she knows they want to dance and mingle and doesn’t want to get in their way. It will be much better for her to stay put in her little corner- it had taken days of begging for anyone to convince Marianne to attend, in the first place.

A flash of pink catches her eye, and then Hilda is there, in her space, sparkling as always. She offers a big, bright smile to Marianne, her eyes widening a little as she takes in her appearance.

“Look at you!” She exclaims, eyes roaming her face and making her blush. “Not only was I not expecting to see you here- but you have makeup on, too! What have you done with our Marianne?”

“Very funny,” she says, sticking her tongue out a little. “Mercedes asked if she could do my makeup, and I let her.”

“She really does good work,” Hilda says. “You look dazzling, of course. Now why are you hiding it over here?” She puts her hands on her hips and pouts out her lips, scrutinizing.

Marianne shrinks a little under her gaze, embarrassed as always. “You know I don’t like crowds,” she says a little weakly. “I don’t want to get in anyone’s way, since I’m not dancing, so I came over here. It’s nice.”

“It’s depressing,” Hilda says flatly. “It’s a ball, Marianne- live a little! At least stand somewhere with more light, where people can see your pretty face. You’re allowed to have at least a little fun, you know.”

She flushes again, and picks at the hem of her sleeve. “Really, I’m fine over here. I promise.”

“Have a dance with me? At least?” Hilda pouts in earnest now, turning on her best puppy eyes. 

This trick always works on boys, and unfortunately, Marianne is not as immune to it herself as she would like to be. Hilda bats her lashes, even thicker and darker coated in mascara, and pouts her glossy lips prettily. Marianne heaves a heavy sigh, looking over her best friend and resigning herself to her fate.

“One dance. But not near the center.”

“Wow, I didn’t think that would work! Oooh, come on, Mari!”

Hilda grabs her hand and immediately drags her from the corner, cheeks blazing. Hilda looks triumphant, sparkling and smiling in her victory, but Marianne keeps her eyes on her boots, watching her steps as Hilda drags her away from the walls and corners and into the light. Her chest constricts a little with nerves, but she tries to will herself to relax a little. Hilda will take care of her, she knows.

Hilda listens to her request and keeps them towards the edge of the crowd, away from the majority of the dancers. Heedless to the movements of the other dancers around them, she twirls Marianne about, giggling brightly. Marianne is stiff at first, anxiety making her even more self-conscious than usual, but slowly, Hilda thaws her out and she starts to relax a little. Not completely, but enough to feel like her heart isn’t about to burst from her chest. She finds herself giggling as Hilda twirls her dramatically, skirt fluttering about her calves. It’s… fun. Hilda is smiling and breathless, glowing prettily under the lights, her hands in Marianne’s familiar and comforting. By the time the song ends, Marianne feels a lot better, and she has a tiny smile on her face. Hilda beams.

“See, I knew that would do you some good. You look a little more relaxed.”

Marianne flushes a little, but nods in agreement. “Thanks, Hilda.”

She winks. “Anything for my best girl. Now, since you won’t indulge me in another dance, I suppose I’ll have to go find some boys to torture. I’ll see you later!”

In a flashing fan of her bright hair, Hilda turns sharply on her heel and marches into the crowd, confident and straight-bakced. Marianne watches her go with amusement, sighing in exasperated fondness at her best friend. She knows that by the end of the night, Hilda will have a line of boys waiting on her every word. She hopes she has fun.

Between the dance and the crowd, Marianne has begun to feel overheated. She heaves a deep breath and makes her way towards one of the exits, hoping to get some fresh air. It takes a moment to find her way through the press of people that aren’t usually there, but she eventually manages to find a door to slip out of. 

She breathes in the cool night air with a happy sigh, already feeling a little more refreshed. It’s dark now, the sun having finally sank beneath the horizon, and it’s cooler than it was when she initially arrived. She walks a little further away from the hall, stepping a little further into the quiet darkness. The grass crunches softly beneath her feet, and she just allows herself to walk aimlessly. The noise of the ball starts to fade the further she walks, and she feels herself relax more as she gets further away. The breeze is nice, cooling her overheated face, and she just lets her feet go wherever they want to.

She ends up at the Goddess Tower.

Of course, she knows the legend about this place- everyone does- and it’s all just about anyone has been able to talk about, when discussions of the ball came up among her peers. The romantic notion of it is nice, and sweet, but Marianne isn’t sure that she believes in such a thing. The Goddess can work miracles, but she doesn’t think She would spend so much time and effort to match-make in one specific place. But what does she know?

It’s surprisingly empty, though it is a little early. Mostly everyone else is still in the main hall, still just getting into the swing of the party, dancing, talking. Probably trying to lure in whoever they want to bring to the tower, hoping that they’ll get their wish if they come together. Marianne touches the stone, feeling the rough surface beneath her fingertips, and sighs. No one would ever ask her here- not that she would let them, really. No one needs to be chained to her for the rest of their life, that much is certain. She would be too much for anyone.

The sound of footsteps on the stone startles her, and she gasps in surprise, turning to see who’s approaching. Surprisingly, it’s Mercedes. She gives a smile as she walks up, soft and pretty.

“Oh, Marianne. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I just wanted to get some fresh air,” she says quietly. “Um, I’m more surprised to see you here, Mercedes. I thought you would want to be inside with Annette and the others.”

“Their pace is a little too fast for my liking,” she says. She bites her lip, looking a little hesitant, before she speaks again. “And, admittedly, I happened to spot you leaving and I wanted to see where you were running off to so early in the night. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t know if something was wrong.”

Marianne flushes, heat flooding her cheeks. “Oh. Well, that’s very kind of you, Mercedes. You didn’t have to go to the trouble for me.”

“Oh Marianne, when will you understand that it’s not trouble?” Mercedes asks softly. Marianne dares to lift her eyes, and sees her expression is soft and earnest. “I’ve told you, I care about you. You’re my friend. My sister in arms. I care about you, Marianne, even if you think I shouldn’t, even if you don’t want me to.”

She swallows around a sudden lump in her throat. Mercedes looks so soft and beautiful in the moonlight, the faint sconces at the door of the tower igniting the gold of her hair as it dances a little on the breeze. Her cheeks are warm, her heart galloping in her chest at a wild pace. And for once, in this quiet, private moment, Marianne believes her. She believes that Mercedes cares about her, genuinely. And that maybe…. That’s okay.

She allows herself a small smile. Mercedes returns it, her face lighting up, and she steps closer, reaching out. Marianne lets her take her hand; her hand is warm, and soft. Her heart stutters in her chest again.

“You’re so special, Marianne,” Mercedes says softly. “I don’t ever want you to forget that.”

“I…” She swallows. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you saying something like that… to me,” she says in a small voice. “You’re so wonderful, Mercedes.”

“I’m glad we could meet at the Goddess Tower,” Mercedes says, “because I think it’s very fitting. The Goddess puts people in our lives for a reason. That reason isn’t always clear until later, but She always has a plan for us, Marianne. I like to trust in Her plan, even if it’s not always clear, or if it’s painful or confusing. I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’ve met terrible people, and been in bad situations, but… it’s all leading me somewhere, I know. And right now, it’s leading me right here, to this moment with you, so I can tell you how special and wonderful you are.” She tucks a strand of Marianne’s hair behind her ear, gentle. “And I’m just a person, Marianne. It’s not particularly special to be liked by me.”

Marianne shakes her head. “You are special, Mercedes. You’re so kind, and loving, and smart. You… you do so much for people. You’re a good healer, and a good friend, and you’re so pretty and nice. You… you um, make me feel special.” She blushes again, casting her eyes to her boots, embarrassed at her brazenness. 

“Well, aren’t we quite the pair?” Mercedes asks with a giggle. “Both of us seem so silly, worrying about why we should or shouldn’t like each other. Let’s put all of that aside, hm? Let’s just care about each other, no questions asked.”

Marianne huffs out a small, embarrassed giggle. “I suppose you’re right.”

Mercedes squeezes her hand, and smiles. “Occasionally, I can make a good point.” She looks around- it’s much darker, now. “We should go back inside. It’s getting chilly out here, and other people are going to start showing up, I’m sure.”

“O-okay.”

Still holding her hand, Mercedes leads her back across the grounds towards the main hall. The light and sound comes flooding back, and she braces herself to be met with the crowd again. Her nerves are dulled, though, the presence of Mercedes’ hand in hers grounding her like a lifeline. All she can feel is that connection between them, palms pressed together, and her heart is beating faster for a reason other than anxiety. 

The anxiety is muted as they walk into the hall together. Mercedes was right, and it is much warmer- Marianne didn’t realize just how cold she’d grown standing outside for so long, and sighs in relief as the warm air hits her. Mercedes turns to smile at her, and she finds herself returning it, a small, secret upturn of her lips that makes Mercedes’ eyes light up. 

The rest of the night passes with much more ease than she would have anticipated. Her nerves melt under Mercedes’ attention, and she finds herself relaxing a little for the rest of the night. They slip out a little earlier than a majority of the others, but the both of them start yawning practically in unison, Mercedes lamenting her desire for her bed, and Marianne agrees. They make their way back to the dormitories, and Mercedes insists on walking Marianne back to her room first. She stammers and blushes, insistent that Mercedes doesn’t need to do such a thing, but the older girl wins. 

“I had a wonderful night,” Mercedes says as they stand outside Marianne’s door. “I’m so very glad you came, Marianne. I’m glad we got to spend this time together.”

She gives a tiny smile. “I’m glad, too. I had a nice time. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“It’s never any trouble. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get these shoes off and crawl into my bed.” She giggles. Goodnight, Marianne.”

Before Marianne can respond, Mercedes is pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. It’s fleeting, and chaste, a brush of her lips, but Marianne feels like she’s been branded. Mercedes gives a smile and turns on her heel, walking down the hall, and Marianne stands frozen against her bedroom door. She raises a hand to her cheek, heat flooding the flesh there, and swears it’s tingling where the other girl’s mouth touched her skin.

She darts into her room and shuts the door, getting undressed in a daze. She throws herself onto her bed, face still hot, and stares at the wall with wide eyes. 

That night, in the quiet of her bedroom, Marianne prays for something other than her own death. Mercedes’ blue eyes swim in her vision, and her fingers shake as she clasps them. She’s not sure what she’s asking for, but for once, her chest is tight with something other than shame.

Her heart flickers like the torches on the Goddess Tower as she thinks about Mercedes’ hand in hers and her mouth on her cheek.


	2. 2

The days of bliss begin to crumble beneath their feet. Edelgard, of all people, has declared war against the church. Marianne doesn’t know much about her, since they never interacted, but seeing her unmask herself as the Flame Emperor in the Holy Tomb is a swift kick that she’s sure none of them expected. Within a matter of moments, the entire world seems to turn upside down.

It feels like it takes mere moments for everything to well and truly fall apart. War breaks out, the monastery is attacked, and Lady Rhea and Byleth go missing. Within the span of a single day, the world comes apart at the seams. 

The evacuation of the monastery is a given, but it’s still frightening. The Golden Deer huddle together one last time, all of them wide-eyed and frantic as chaos surrounds them. Claude assures them that they’re going to be alright, because that’s what he does; but he says it so comfortably confidently that he manages to ease the tension in the room. Marianne is curled in on herself in a chair near the back, fear making her spine tingle. She’s listening to Claude and the others speak, but her eyes are on the floor beneath her boots. She wonders if this will be the last time she ever sees these floors, the last time she walks them. She wonders if this will be the last time she sees the people gathered in this room. She tries not to think too hard about it.

There’s a hand on her shoulder, and she looks up to see Mercedes. Her face is drawn, like everyone else’s, but she still spares a small, kind smile for Marianne. It doesn’t quite touch her eyes, but it’s comforting, all the same. She takes Marianne’s hand and she lets her. They sit and hold hands, and Claude talks, and the world falls apart.

+

Marianne returns to her adoptive father’s territory, because there’s nothing else to be done. The country dissolves into war, and the Alliance feels the pressure much the same as Faerghus and the Empire, the political landscape becoming brutal very quickly. She spends her time studying and keeping to herself as much as possible. Her adoptive father is wrapped up in politics even more fiercely than usual, and he comes and goes from their territory frequently as tensions flow like waves through the Alliance lords. 

On the in between, in the days of war, Marianne and Mercedes exchange letters.

Mercedes goes into the merchant business, spending her time out of the fray and trying to keep a semblance of normalcy, in her own words. The first time Marianne receives a letter from her, it’s startling, but it fills her heart with a warmth she hadn’t felt since before the fall of Garreg Mach. Mercedes’ neat, clean handwriting happily inquires about her health, chats about the weather, the people she’s met, and the things she’s learned now that she’s in business. She tells her that she’s praying for her every day. 

She tells her she misses her.

That particular part hits Marianne in the chest like a potent cast of Thoron. Her fingertips tingle as she reads over the words. Mercedes misses her. She prays for her, thinks of her often enough to pray for her daily. Marianne has never really thought of herself as someone that another person would care enough about to pray for every day. She wondered, sometimes, if her classmates missed her like she often found herself missing them, torn apart and thrown back into their separate corners of the world by the war that was sundering it before their eyes. 

Marianne eagerly replies, and this is how they begin exchanging letters for the next five years. Mercedes travels a lot, now, going where it’s safe and where the money and business go, keeping herself busy. She always has plenty of stories to tell Marianne, describing scenic villages, cute children she sees, grumpy barkeeps at the inns she stays in along the way. Marianne doesn’t have nearly as many exciting stories to tell, here on her adoptive father’s estate, but Mercedes is always so enthusiastic in her replies, anyway. 

As the fifth year approaches, Marianne remembers the promise her classmates made, what feels like a lifetime ago. The thought careens into her as she’s in the garden for tea one afternoon, reading over a book. She’s not sure what triggers the memory, but it hits her with a little force. She remembers their faces, then, so much younger and full of hope. Eager, excited, brimming with the possibilities of seeing each other again in five years. Things are so different, now, though, that she wonders if they remember. 

The idea of actually going strikes her. It seems a little foolish, to leave her adoptive father’s estate in its safety and venture to the middle of a warzone, but… the idea of being able to see her old friends again lights a fire in her. It’s a bold thought that she usually doesn’t have often, but… she wants to see them. She wants to make sure that everyone is whole and hale and well, with her own eyes. And the possibility of seeing Mercedes again draws her in like a moth to flame. 

There’s hardly been a day where Marianne hasn’t thought of the other woman; especially once they began exchanging their letters. The moments they shared at the academy are deeply treasured memories, and sometimes, if Marianne thinks about it hard enough, she can still remember the feeling of Mercedes kissing her cheek the night of the ball. The way she looked in the moon and torchlight at the Goddess Tower when she said that the Goddess put them in each other’s paths. Her heart races at the mere thought. 

She eagerly writes to Mercedes to tell her of her plan to return to the monastery. She confesses to her friend how she feels almost a little foolish, when she doesn’t even know if anyone else remembers or is going, but she also confides in her determination. She’s tired of sitting on her father’s estate. She wants to do something. She wants to take control of her life, for once, even if it’s this one, reckless thing.

Mercedes tells her she’s going too, and that seals the deal for her. The fire she felt in her decision burns brighter, Mercedes’ confirmation kindling the flames in her chest. She longs to see her friend again, in particular more than any of the others. She wants to see her face, hear her voice, and a small, secret part of her longs to feel their hands in one another again, the brush of the older woman’s lips on her cheek. Her hair in the moonlight. Lavender tea and homemade honey cakes in a small dormitory bedroom. Heat floods her cheeks and her heart gallops in her chest at the thought of it, the memories a vivid haze. 

It’s this thought that keeps her hands working as she packs her bags, whenever any hesitation begins to make her stutter and pause. Her desire to see Mercedes burns, and she sets about getting ready with a determination she hasn’t seen from herself in a long time. 

Her father is away when she departs. She leaves a letter with the household staff, saddles her favorite horse, and makes the journey back to Garreg Mach. It’s a path she hasn’t tread in a long time, but it feels like both a mere second and an entire lifetime since she has. When the mountains come into view, imposing and grand, she feels a sense of relief wash over her. This was her home for a while, after all, and if she’s being honest with herself… she missed it. 

The villages surrounding the monastery, once bustling and bright, are run ragged and in disrepair. It’s much quieter than Marianne ever remembers it being, and she shudders to think what happened to all of those civilians when the battle broke out on the grounds. 

The sound of heavy footsteps startles her, and she stifles a gasp as she tugs her horse to a stop. She hasn’t seen anyone yet, and fear crawls coldly across the back of her neck at the thought of the kinds of people she will find in these ruins. Bandits have always been a threat across the entire country, and even five years after the initial battle, this place is sure to be ripe for the picking. Her fingers tingle as she gears up to cast Blizzard, eyes darting everywhere, looking for signs of the footsteps.

And then Raphael, of all people, comes bursting from the bushes.

“Oh my goodness!” She squeaks, the magic in her fingers dying in a flash. “R-Raphael?!”

His hair is longer, and he’s even bigger than when she last saw him, but it’s unmistakable. He looks… grown, now, and even though he had a mature face in the academy, it’s obvious now that he’s really grown into his features in the last five years. There’s a shuffle and a gasp, and Ignatz emerges from behind him, wide-eyed and bespectacled. It’s a sight from her youth, and her eyes well a little with startled, happy tears at the sight of her old friends.

“Marianne!” Ignatz says delightedly, approaching her horse. “I didn’t expect to see you!”

She dismounts, and is immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by Raphael. Despite this, she finds herself smiling and laughing, returning the embrace as best as she can in the vice-grip of his arms. He pulls away from her, watery-eyed, and she giggles.

“My, look at the both of you!” She says. “You’re both so handsome…. I didn’t expect to see you, either. I… wasn’t sure what to expect, coming here, to be honest. But I wanted to try.”

Ignatz nods. “We did, too. We weren’t sure what we would find, ourselves.”

“But boy are we glad to see you!” Raphael booms. “It’s real nice to see ya, Marianne.”

She smiles. “I’m glad to see you, too. Have you seen anyone else yet?”

Ignatz shakes his head. “Not just yet, but we’re still looking. We figured we’d go towards the nearest village closest to the monastery and see what we find. Maybe there will be some townspeople there who can tell us if they saw anyone else.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you mind if I come with you?”

“Course not!” Raphael says. “Come on, Marianne, like we’d just leave you by yourself.”

They set off together, chatting amiably as they walk. Marianne finds it easier to be around them, a little startled by her lack of anxiety. But she knows them, trusts them, and she feels better about herself than she did back in her academy days. It’s nice to see friendly, familiar faces, and it puts her a little at ease as they make their way forward.

When they come upon the village, there’s a fight. Not only is there a fight, but there are several of their old classmates already gathered- including Claude, and, like a vision out of a fever dream, Byleth, brandishing the Sword of the Creator and their usual stern expression. Marianne’s heart skips a beat at the sight. She, like surely all of the others, thought their beloved professor was dead. There was no way they could be alive, but… well. They did literally rip a hole in the air and emerge with new powers, so really, anything seems to be possible for them. 

The fight is with a large group of bandits that have taken up squatting in the village, terrorizing the remaining people there and driving them from their homes. There’s not really any time to rejoice in their reunion before all of them get thrown into the fight. They spent the next hour rerouting the bandits, cutting them down and trying to get through the fight so they can rest and greet each other properly.

Once the fight’s over, everyone makes their way to the monastery. It’s there that they all finally properly address the situation; and all of them are surprised to see that everyone made the trek back, the entire, expansive class gathered together like they said all those years ago. Everyone looks so mature, but… tired. Marianne can understand. It hasn’t exactly been a breezy five years, and some of them have had it rougher than others. Still, it’s good to see familiar faces and be reunited with them. 

When she finally sees Mercedes, properly after the battle, time seems to slow a little. Their eyes meet across the room, and Mercedes lights up like a beacon, practically running to Marianne and engulfing her in an embrace. She returns the hug, breathing deep, and finds herself a little overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of her friend. They finally pull apart after what feels like ages, and Marianne looks her over properly. She looks so elegant, and her hair is cropped to her jaw. It’s jarring, when remembering how long it was in their academy days, but it suits her. Either way, she’s as beautiful as she’s always been.

“Oh Marianne, it’s so wonderful to see your face,” Mercedes says a little breathlessly. Her eyes shine. “You look so beautiful. You look well. Oh, I’m so happy to see you again!”

She finds herself smiling back, helpless to stop her own reaction. “I’m so thrilled to see you, Mercedes. I’ve waited so long.”

The smile that Mercedes gives her feels… different. But good. She squeezes Marianne’s hand. 

“We’ll keep each other close then, won’t we?”

Marianne can’t stop her cheeks from flushing as she nods.

+

The fight right outside of the monastery is only the beginning of the chaos that ensues when they all return. The continent is still at war, and being at Garreg Mach has put them all in considerably more danger. Things are much faster-paced than their academy days, and it’s… jarring, to say the least. They’re in the thick of the war, now, Byleth and Claude and their Golden Deer, and there’s not really any stopping this. Marianne is a little more open to it than she ever thought she’d be- but her desire to protect her home and her friends lights a fire inside of her that she didn’t know existed.

The battles are gruelling. The danger is constant. It’s exhausting, but being around the people she loves the most makes it a little easier.

Mercedes, as always, is a beacon of light amongst them. She’s one of the best healers they have on hand, and she and Marianne and Linhardt all work together to keep everyone whole and hale. Where Marianne falters in confidence and Linhardt becomes easily exhausted, she holds up the healing tent like a goddess carrying a world on her shoulders. And in a way, she was- Marianne’s whole world was here, with these people that she had cast her lot with all those years ago in her academy days. They were a rag-tag bunch, from different places, backgrounds, and what felt like entirely different worlds, but… this was her family.

She spends an entire day in the kitchen with Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe, making bread. She’s not as good at it as her companions, but she finds the process soothing, and the smell of the bread in the oven is comforting. They’re all covered in flour, their fingers sticky with dough, and the atmosphere between them is bright and calm. It’s a pleasant day. She looks across the kitchen at Mercedes, who is giggling at something Ashe has said, and she’s struck. 

She’s so beautiful. Marianne knows this, but she doesn’t always let herself acknowledge the thought. It leads to dangerous territory; like wanting to take her fingertips and scrape the flour off the curve of her cheek, or to gently put her hands to her waist when she walks by her, or to lean in and just take the scent of the flour on her skin, her perfume that Marianne knows she wears and has memorized the scent of, now. The thought makes her flush, and she puts a little extra work into kneading the dough she has on the counter in front of her.

Mercedes asks her to tea, when they finish their bread-making in the kitchen, and she’s helpless to refuse. They clean themselves up and make their way to her room. Everything has changed, and is the exact same, all at once. Their selection of tea is smaller than it was during their academy days, but it’s still good. With people like Ferdinand and Lorenz with them, they never fail to have something good on hand. Today, they have some chamomile, and it’s pleasant and soothing. Mercedes smiles, as always, as she serves their tea. Marianne watches her, like always, rapt and a little wide-eyed. They talk about all sorts of things, and it feels familiar and comforting and good, to sit here with someone she cares about so dearly and just… relax. 

They try to make time for tea when they can, in between the chaos of war and the campaign. Claude and Byleth take them all around the continent, securing forts and clashing with the Imperial forces left and right. The world turns, though it feels more like it’s heaving, and as the months drag on, it gets a little more exhausting. They’re all tired. They all want this war to be over.

And then the villagers find Marianne. 

It’s the situation she’s feared the most for her entire life- they know what she is. There’s a beast lurking in the woods, and they know she’s responsible. They’re sure of it, a particularly angry man spitting demands and accusations at her with alarming acidity. In what feels like perfect timing, Byleth slides in, unsettling green eyes narrowed at the angry man, and saves her from Goddess knows what else he might have to say. They agree to help her, and it’s like she’s been kicked in the chest, but in a surprisingly good way. 

Byleth has helped her through so much. She tells them so, letting them in on the secret that they helped assuage so many of her fears and come into herself. She reveals to them how she prayed every day for the Goddess to take her, when she was younger, and how they helped her get to a place where she no longer wished that for herself. She knows she doesn’t mistake the way their eyes soften, and when they reach out to grab her hand and gently squeeze it, she lets them.

The forest is a dense, terrifying place, and the fog filling the narrow gaps between the dark trees doesn’t make it any better. But Marianne can sense it- and then she can hear its breath, deep and ragged. There’s a stench of sorrow in this place, as well as leather and rotting flesh. She makes white-knuckled fists as she faces the beast, finally training its large, red eyes on her and speaks to her in its ancient, growling tones. 

But she will not die here in this place.

It’s a long battle. There are monsters in every corner of the forest, and it takes all of their effort to stay together enough to keep each other alive and fight them all off at the same time. They all sustain plenty of injuries, some more than others, and the pain of it cuts Marianne as if she bore all of their wounds alongside her own. She herself has deep claw marks gashed into her arm, blood on her face from either a monster or one of her own wounds, her chest stinging with what she’s sure is a cracked rib. Her horse is skittish but braver than she feels, and doesn’t throw her from the saddle no matter how many hits she takes. It’s gruelling, made even more fierce by the sheer number of monsters that seem to keep emerging from the trees.

The sun is going down when she lands the final blow. The beast gives a mighty roar that shakes the earth beneath its feet, and trains its eyes on her once more. They’re… almost soft. It looks at her, and it thanks her for freeing it. Freeing him. 

Marianne watches Maurice, her ancestor, the man who led her to her Crest, fall dead on the forest floor.

There’s a sword next to his corpse, and it has the unmistakable look of a Relic. Blutgang. She remembers the name from the family books, from the legends, from the lists of Relics. It feels warm in her hand, as if it had just been held by someone. Maybe it had. She sheathes it and slides it into one of the sword belts on her armor. By all rights, it is hers now, though it feels surreal to be holding such an object in her grasp. 

This, of course, is when things go south again. She’s exhausted. She and all of her comrades are beaten, bloody, and tired to the marrow. They make the short march back to Garreg Mach, Marianne and her steed both bogged with exhaustion, and she feels every wound much more sharply as her body begins to relax and the adrenaline wears off. It’s been a while since she’s been in so much pain and sustained so many injuries in a battle, and she winces the entire ride back. 

And then she collapses.

When she opens her eyes, she’s in the familiar infirmary, in the walls of the monastery. She blinks slowly, bogged down by drowsiness, pain, and medicine. The room slowly comes into focus, and she groans a little as she begins to move, her body weak and sore as she stretches out a little and comes into consciousness. 

“Marianne!” She turns her head at the sound, to see Mercedes standing near her bed, a look of shock on her face. She rushes over to her, and sits in the chair next to the bed. “Oh, Marianne, thank the Goddess. You’re awake. How are you feeling, darling?”

She’s dressed down, in a simple linen dress with an old apron over it, her hat and veil missing. She looks tired, her hair a little wild, but she gives Marianne her trademark bright smile all the same. 

“M-Mercedes,” Marianne whispers. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, there were a lot of injuries to go around this time,” she says softly. “I’ve been helping Manuela take care of everyone- mostly everyone else is back in shape, but you’re one of the last few still recovering.”

“W-who else?”

“Sylvain took a nasty hit to his ribs, and Raphael had to have his shoulder reset. They’re both still pretty sore.”

Marianne lets out a long sigh, her eyes drifting closed for a moment. It pains her to hear about the injuries her friends have sustained, and that they were bad enough to warrant them extra time in the infirmary. But she’s also stuck on the sound of Mercedes saying the word “darling”, directed at her.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” she says quietly. “I really appreciate you, Mercedes.”

“Of course, dear. I’ve been worried about you. You’re doing so much better.”

“Thanks to you, I’m sure. You’re our best healer, you know.”

She flushes, pressing a hand to her mouth as she giggles a little in embarrassment. “Oh, you flatter me. But I appreciate your kind words, all the same. And I’m just glad you’re okay. That was… a lot for you, I’m sure.”

Marianne frowns a little. “Ah. Well… it was a lot. But.. I feel better now. I feel more at peace. Is that strange?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. I’m glad you found some peace. That’s what you’ve needed in your life.” She pauses for a moment, and takes Marianne’s hand. “It’s what you deserve.”

She finds herself smiling a little. “When I get out of here,” she says, “what do you say to tea?”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful.”

“You ought to sleep first. Have you gotten any rest since we got back?”

Mercedes winces a little. “Well… a little, but… certainly not enough. Now that I know you’re okay, though, I can rest. I’ll get some sleep, I promise. We can have tea together on Saturday.”

“It’s a deal.”

+

The promised day comes, and Marianne makes her way to Mercedes’ room with a light heart and a basket of sweet rolls she made with Laurenz the day before. Ever since her confrontation with Maurice in the forest, she feels… lighter. Less burdened. The Crest that burns in her blood doesn’t burn so much anymore, and she feels, for the first time in her life, like she can really, truly breathe again. 

It’s one of the first times they’ve spent time like this together since this whole ordeal started. There’s been so much going on amidst the chaos of the war that no one has had much time on their hands for leisurely activities. Between the war itself and the attempted cleanup and restoration of the monastery, there’s just no time. The work has been non-stop, and Marianne can admit that she’s glad for a small reprieve. She makes her way to Mercedes’ room with a lightness in her heart.

Mercedes, as always, is smiling when she opens the door to greet Marianne. She ushers her inside, and they take their seats at the little table by the window. The scent of lavender tea wafts gently through the room, and Marianne feels a smile come to her face. She sets the sweet buns on the table, and Mercedes beams.

“Oh, these look lovely! Did you make them?”

She nods. “It was a team effort with a few others, but I thought it would be nice to bring something, instead of leaving all of the snacks to you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that at all, Marianne. You know how much I love baking.”

“I know, but it felt nice to change things up for once.”

Mercedes gives a soft sigh and a wide smile. “You know, Marianne… I’ve missed you so dearly over these last few years.”

Marianne swallows around the sudden lump in her throat, her cheeks warm. “Ah… I missed you too, Mercedes. I’m glad you wrote to me while we were away. Your letters are… they were my favorite thing. I was always so eager for them.”

“As was I!” She says brightly. “We were still leading such different lives, but I always so looked forward to hearing from you. You certainly made so many of my days brighter.”

She feels her cheeks flush again, her face going warm. “O-oh. That’s so nice.” 

That feels like an understatement, and a silly thing to say, but she can’t stop it now that she’s put it between them. Embarrassment floods her, but she pushes through. 

“I have to admit that I was a little surprised that you wanted to keep in contact with me,” she says after a moment, her bearings gathered. “I know we… developed a sort of friendship, during school, but I never thought I would be interesting enough to keep in contact.” She pauses, waving a hand. “Not to say that I’m ungrateful, or that I didn’t love it! I was just. Surprised. I still… hated myself a lot more, when we first began writing to each other.”

Mercedes’ look is soft. “Well, you needn’t worry, darling. Of course I still wanted to speak with you. I meant everything I ever said to you while we were at the academy, and it would have been terrible of me to just abandon you simply because we were apart.”

She manages to meet Mercedes’ gaze, her eyes a little wide. “I… never thought anyone would feel that way about me.”

“Well, now you know someone does.” Her eyes are alight with her smile. “Speaking of, though, you look so much better than when I saw you last. You could… well, you could almost see your sadness. It was more than a little heartbreaking. But I can tell how much better you feel just by looking at you. Even if we hadn’t been exchanging letters, it would still be obvious.”

“Oh! Well that’s actually rather nice to hear, especially from you.” She looked at her tea, a little overwhelmed by emotion. “I… I really appreciate you, Mercedes. More than I think you could ever know.”

“Aren’t you a flatterer,” she said with a soft giggle. Marianne looked up to see her smiling gently. “I’m glad to hear it, though.”

Marianne let out a soft laugh. “The both of us are getting quite sappy, aren’t we?”

“Well, that’s why we get along so well- we’ve always been more emotional sorts, you and I. But… I’m glad. For all of this. Seeing you again, and being your friend, even after all of those years apart. Your letters meant a lot to me. It was nice to be able to talk to someone familiar while I was doing new things. I was always eager for your letters, too.”

Marianne feels her heart stutter in her chest at the words, and she glances away, her cheeks warm. It’s… nice, to hear these things, to know that Mercedes cares for her so much. She spent so long wondering, as they exchanged letters over the years, whether or not her feelings were valid and returned. To know that Mercedes felt the same, and treasured their relationship just as equally, fills her heart with warmth that makes it feel full to bursting. 

The rest of their evening passes this way, talking over tea. They talk about everything and nothing, and before either of them know it, it’s into the late evening, twilight coloring the sky in oranges and pinks as the sun begins to set. She’s startled at the prospect of having spent so much time with Mercedes, not even realizing how long it had been. 

“Promise we’ll do this again,” Mercedes says as she sees Marianne to the door. “It’s such a nice reprieve from everything that’s going on, and I’ve missed our talks.”

Marianne nods. “Of course. Whenever you’d like.”

Mercedes beams. “Well, I’ll certainly take you up on that offer.”

She goes to her room with a smile on her face that persists into the night.

+

The war, as expected, is not easy. It’s grueling. And what a strange, ironic turn of events it is that as soon as Marianne decides that she values her life, it’s in constant danger. But luckily for them, Byleth and Claude are good at what they do. Between the two of them, their tactics are nearly unstoppable, and it saves all of their skins more than any of them could dare to keep count. But even between their two brilliant minds, times are still difficult. Marianne spends a lot of her time in the medical tent, beside Linhardt and Mercedes, the three of them up to their elbows deep in white magic and blood, keeping their friends and comrades alive. And when she’s not in the medical tent or the infirmary, she’s on horseback on the battlefield with the rest of them, slinging spells and lances. 

It’s not really how she pictured her future, but the Goddess has always worked in mysterious ways. Maybe something good will come out of this war, just yet. She can only pray that whatever outcome they face will be worth it, for all the blood being shed. 

When Dimitri dies on the battlefield like a wounded animal, it rips even Marianne’s heart apart. She remembers the demure, polite boy he once was and mourns him just as his former Lions do. She spends the entire evening with Mercedes, making her tea and holding her while she cries. They cry together, both of them soft hearts, but anyone would shed a tear if they had seen the brutal way he fell. Eventually, their tears dry, and Marianne just continues to hold the other woman against her, stroking through her short, soft hair. It stirs something in her chest and she kicks herself for it, knowing this is not the time nor place for such inappropriate feelings. But Mercedes’ eyes are even bluer after crying, and her flushed cheeks are so pretty, that Marianne can’t help the circle of thoughts. She’ll keep them to herself, like always, and pray away the shame before she goes to bed.

That’s a familiar song and dance, now. She finds her thoughts circling constantly to Mercedes. Her laugh, her smile, her tenderness. She tries her best to keep these things at bay and focus on what’s at hand- they’re at war, after all- but she can’t get the other woman out of her head. Their friendship means the world to her, but lately… she wonders if it’s something else.

She wakes up in a sweat after dreaming about the ball, all those years ago, and instead of the evening ending with a kiss on the cheek it ended with their mouths together, Mercedes’ hands in her hair or on her waist. Marianne catches her breath and feels her cheeks blaze in the darkness of her bedroom, heart pounding in her chest. She curls against herself and tries to imagine what that would feel like, kissing Mercedes. She’s never kissed anyone, and truthfully has never thought about it very much, either. She always assumed she’d never be around long enough to find out, or that if she was, no one would ever find her desirable enough. But she can’t help but wonder if maybe, somewhere in the midst of their friendship… if Mercedes feels it, too. Whatever this thing is that’s been growing inside of her chest all these years. 

Does Mercedes even like women? Marianne hadn’t even been sure she did until she had come to the Officers' Academy, but she has no idea about her friend. She’s never talked about boys, the way some of the other women around them have, even when they were all younger. But she’s never talked about girls, either. Maybe she isn’t interested in any of that, which is a thought that gives Marianne pause and upset. It’s a selfish, terrible thought, but she hopes that isn’t the case. She hopes that just maybe, Mercedes might be interested too.

This is the thought that continues to plague her as they go about their days. The war continues, the politics and bloodshed and fear, but in the back of her head, Marianne wonders, and thinks of Mercedes. Their afternoon tea times are a treasure that she holds close, and every interaction with the other woman makes her chest feel light. Considering their positions as healers, they spend plenty of time together both on and off the battlefield. Marianne cannot slow the pace of her thoughts, nor her heart, when it comes to the other woman. It’s become a little bit of a distraction, and she’s doing her best to keep things at bay, but.. Well. She’s always been a terrible liar.

Hilda’s eye, as always, is keen, and she approaches Marianne and corners her when they get assigned to stable duty together for a weekend. 

“You’ve been… extra skittish, lately,” Hilda says, getting straight to the punch as always. “That’s not like you- not anymore. Something’s going on with you. Tell me about it.”

Marianne winces a little. “It’s n-nothing, I promise. Just… there’s a lot going on, is all.”

Hilda raises a perfectly manicured brow in pure disbelief. “Yeah, you suck at lying. What’s going on?” Her expression softens, and she takes Marianne’s hand. “You know you can talk to me, right? We’re supposed to be best friends, you know. I do care about you, and if something’s going on, I wanna know. Maybe I can help you.”

As embarrassed as she is at the prospect of speaking to any other living soul about her current situation, the earnest look in Hilda’s steady gaze weakens her resolve, and her anxiety. She sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat, and pretends she doesn’t notice the victorious sparkle in Hilda’s eyes. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she starts off, looking at the floor. “It’s more than a little embarrassing.”

“I won’t laugh at you, promise.”

“I…” She swallows and sighs before continuing. “I have… feelings for someone. But I don’t know if those feelings are reciprocated, and I don’t want to ruin things by asking and trying to change things between us. I don’t want to lose our friendship, even if… even though I really would like something more. I think there might be a chance my feelings are returned, but I’m not sure. I don’t want to make things awkward or strange. I… I don’t want to be rejected.”

Hilda’s expression is soft. “Oh, Marianne… you’re wonderful. You know that, right? Anyone would be lucky to have you, to start. Whoever this is, they’re lucky you have interest in them, because you’re amazing. So there’s that, to start. But Marianne, if it’s weighing on you that much, just tell them. And yeah, they can say no, but that’s like, the worst that will happen. If they say no, you’ll always find someone else. If they say no, they’re stupid, anyway.”

That gets a small laugh out of Marianne. “I’m just so afraid, Hilda. I… I don’t want to lose this person.”

“Taking that sort of step is always scary,” Hilda says softly. “It’s hard, for sure, because there’s always so much that’s unknown. But you never know until you try, right? And it just might surprise you! Like I said, you’re wonderful, Mari. I would be more surprised if this person didn’t like you.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you.”

“But you think there’s a chance, right? That has to mean something.”

“We…” She lets a small smile cross her face. “We have a connection, Hilda. We have for a long time, and I… I want more. And I feel like… I feel like she does, too. I’m just so afraid to take that step.”

“She? Who is it? Spill.”

Marianne winces. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to let that slip.” She bites her lip, and looks at the hem of her dress. “It’s… Mercedes.”

“Ha! I knew it!”

She flushes, her cheeks heating. “Well, you don’t have to brag about it.”

“Marianne, I love you to the ends of the earth, but you’re dense. That woman has it in for you. You should see the way she looks at you. If you don’t tell her I’ll literally go crazy. There’s no way that she doesn’t like you back. No way! You have to tell her, Marianne, goddess above.”

Her cheeks get hotter. “You… you think she likes me?”

Hilda rolls her eyes. “A thousand times yes. Go get your woman, you fool! Do you know how many people here would kill to be in your shoes right now? Go get her! Tell her!”

“What if she says no?”

Hilda snorts. “Well, she won’t. And if she does, she’ll at least be nice about it, and you’ll have nothing to worry about. Your friendship will remain intact, because Mercedes is like, the nicest person on the planet.”

“I.. I do feel a little better about this, I’ll admit,” she says softly.

Hilda squeezes her hand, and when Marianne looks up, she’s smiling. “See? This is why you should confide in me more often. I’m a miracle worker, you know.”

“Well, if I tell Mercedes how I feel, then you have to finally talk to Claude.”

Marianne watches in amazement as Hilda turns red, high spots of color on her cheeks. 

“Y-you! That’s not fair!”

She giggles. “Well? Deal?”

“F-fine. Fine. you got me, you little weasel. How did you know?”

“Hilda, I know I don’t always pick up on these things, but… everyone knows. Talk to him. He loves you, you know.”

Marianne has never seen her friend’s face get redder.

+

She turns over the conversation with Hilda in her head for days. Hilda sounded so sure when she said that Mercedes liked her back, but, how could she really know? And then it loops back to what Hilda told her about taking the plunge, anyway. How will she know if she doesn’t ask?

The night of the academy ball drifts in and out of her thoughts as she turns things over. She recalls the feeling of Mercedes kissing her cheek, the way she looked in the moonlight. The scent of lavender tea, the taste of homemade honey cakes on her tongue. She lies awake at night and tosses and turns, all of these things a tempest in her head and her heart. She wants to reach for her so badly, but fear grips her heart like an iron shackle. 

A warm early summer morning dawns, and Marianne makes up her mind. 

They set the date for this tea days ago, and she’s been antsy about it since. She tries her best to remain calm, repeating Hilda’s confident words in her head over and over when she finds herself getting too anxious about it. Hilda is many things, and being good at reading people is one of them. She’s lit a bit of a fire inside of Marianne, making her determined to see this through. She wants this. She wants… to be with Mercedes.

The thought alone, finally admitted to herself for the first time, makes her cheeks flush and her heart race, but it feels right. It feels good to think about it. She wants to be with Mercedes. She wants to spend every day with her, side by side, and face the world together. She wants to to go to service with her, make breakfast with her, go to sleep and wake up with her. With a fierceness, she realizes she’s never wanted anything quite so terribly in her life- even more than when she wanted her life to end, before. She’s never yearned so fiercely for anything; but for once, truly, Marianne wants to live, and she wants to spend those living moments with the woman she’s come to love. 

Her heart races as she simply thinks about the prospect. Mercedes could say no; but what if she didn’t? What if she said yes? The thought overwhelms her in the best way possible. 

When the time comes, she makes her way to Mercedes’ room, basket in hand. As always, Mercedes greets her with a bright smile, and they set up their tea table together, chatting pleasantly. Marianne watches her every movement, hyper-aware of the other woman, as her heart gallops in her chest. She makes herself breathe, forces herself to slow down and calmly sip at her tea and eat her treats. It will be fine.

Let it be fine, she prays silently, hoping the Goddess is listening. Please, however this goes today, let it be fine. Give me the strength to see it through.

“I think we should take a walk,” Marianne says as they finish their tea.

Mercedes looks surprised, but she nods, smiling. “You know, that does sound lovely. It’s so nice outside this evening.”

They gather themselves together and head out, walking at a leisurely pace. Mercedes lets Marianne lead the way, and she tries not to overthink their destination. Their walk is quiet, but she doesn’t mind, as it allows her to keep her composure as they move along across the grounds. If Mercedes has any inkling of where she’s being taken, she doesn’t say anything, and Marianne is grateful for that, as well. 

She tries to mentally prepare what she wants to say, but to no avail. Words fly through her mind a mile a minute, and she can’t seem to settle on anything in particular that sounds the best. As they make their way towards the Goddess Tower, Marianne takes a deep, shuddering breath. The breeze gently blows her bangs, and she allows herself a small second to relax into it.

“The Goddess Tower?” Mercedes finally asks, breaking the silence between them.

Marianne takes another deep breath, and turns to face her with a nod. “There was a reason I wanted to come here today. I… I have something to say, Mercedes.”

The other woman’s cheeks are tinted pink, which makes Marianne’s heart start beating faster. Sh has to know, now, why she was brought here. 

“Do tell,” she says softly.

Marianne clears her throat. “Mercedes, I…. years ago, when we went to the academy ball together, we met here. And I… I haven’t forgotten that night, even after all this time. I’ve treasured that memory ever since that night. And I’ve… I’ve treasured you. Our friendship means the world to me, Mercedes. You reached out to me when I needed it most, and you honestly… you helped save me. The letters we’ve exchanged over the years have been like a beacon of light in the darkness. Our tea times together are what I most look forward to every week. I’ve come to be so fond of you, Mercedes, but it’s more than even that. I... “ She swallows roughly, looking at her feet. “I must confess to you, Mercedes, that my feelings have become a lot deeper than friendship.”

Mercedes gasps softly, and Marianne looks up. Her cheeks are dark pink, blue eyes wide, and she covers her mouth delicately. Marianne’s heart feels like it’s going to break through her ribcage. 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but-”

Before she can finish her sentence, she’s being crushed into an embrace, Mercedes wrapping her arms around her and pulling her in tight and close.

“How could I ever feel differently?” Mercedes asks, and Marianne notices the tremble in her voice. “Oh, Marianne, you mean the world to me- do you know that? I’ve simply been overcome with affection for you, but I had no idea if you felt the same… you have no idea how this makes me feel!”

They pull apart, and Mercedes holds onto Marianne’s hands, a large, dazzling smile across her face. 

“To tell you the truth, Marianne, I’ve longed for you for quite some time.”

She feels her own face heat up, eyes widening. “Y-you have?”

“How could I not? How many times have I told you over the years how wonderful you are? I’m so blessed to have you in my life, Marianne- there was simply no way I couldn’t fall in love with you.”

Tears spring to her eyes, unbidden, and she feels her lips tremble. “You… you love me, Mercedes?”

“Oh Marianne, I could do no less,” she says softly, cupping her cheek. 

In a stroke of bravery she never thought she possessed, Marianne kisses her.

It’s a soft, chaste thing, their lips brushing, but it feels good. Mercedes leans into it, and it becomes much deeper, and better, and Marianne’s head spins. When they break apart, both of them a little breathless, they just stand there, holding each other and breathing the same air. 

“I used to pray for so many things,” Marianne says softly into the space between them. “For a long time, it was for the Goddess to take me with her, away from this world. I lived so much of my life in the dark, in fear. I waited, longed, for the day it would all be over. But you… you reached out to me, when so many others had given up. Even when I pushed you away. You gave so much of your time and your kindness to me, and eventually, I stopped praying for death. I prayed for you, Mercedes. And you’ve come to me, in every way I wanted.”

Mercedes strokes her cheek, her eyes bright. “Marianne…”

Their foreheads touch, and they just stand there, breathing each other in. Her heart is racing, and she can’t keep the smile from her face. 

“I love you, Mercedes,” she says. “I love you, and I don’t want to let you go. After this war is over… you and me, we’ll go somewhere. We can have a life of our own together.”

“I want nothing more than that,” Mercedes says. “I don’t want to let you go, either, Marianne. We can be together, from here on and always. I promise.”

She feels a sob escape her, and Mercedes brings her into a tight embrace. They’re both trembling a little, but Marianne has never felt less afraid in her entire life. She doesn’t even know why she hesitated to open herself up to Mercedes, now that she’s here. They stand there for a while, holding each other. Marianne feels lighter than air. 

They walk back to the main campus together, hand in hand. They go to dinner that way as well, and when Hilda sees them her eyes light up. Marianne blushes her way through the whole affair, but she can’t keep the smile from her face or stop her heart from skipping joyfully in her chest at the feeling of Mercedes’ hand in her own. They get plenty of looks, most of them surprised, but Marianne can’t even feel overly embarrassed. 

The next day, she gets an invitation for tea from the professor, which she gladly accepts. As always, they see right through her the second she sits at the table, their steaming cups between them, but she stopped feeling so afraid of their piercing gaze long ago. Instead, she gives them a smile, which they return in their small, simple way.

“You know, some years ago, you sat me down and talked to me about Mercedes,” Marianne starts after a few polite sips. Her mouth tastes like lavender and her heart is light. “I just… I want to thank you, professor. I feel like I’m always chasing after you to thank you, but I really do mean it. If you hadn’t encouraged me back then… I truly don’t know where I would be now.”

The corners of their mouth lift visibly above the rim of their teacup. They delicately set it down, and relax in their chair. “You did all of the work, you know,” they say simply. “I just gave you a little nudge. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“You’re not, but you were the first. Thank you again.”

They shrug, taking a bite of a biscuit. “Please, it really is no big deal. But I’m glad I could help bring you some happiness, even with my small contribution.”

“You’ve been such an asset to me,” Marianne says. “Really, you’re one of the most important people in my life. I’m glad we got to meet each other, professor.”

They smile, a genuine, pretty little thing. “Me too, Marianne.”

+

The war drags, and then, in what feels like a flash, it’s over. Blood, sweat, tears, all of their hardship and labor, finally coming to a close. Marianne is exhausted, and so are all of her peers and friends. She’s ready to go home and rest. She never wants to see another battlefield ever again. 

When the time comes to return home, when things are said and done, Marianne does not travel alone.

She and Mercedes make the trek together to the von Edmund territory, travelling back into the former territory of the Alliance. When she brings her home to her adoptive father, he welcomes her with open arms, openly startled but greatly pleased to see her so happy and alive after so many years of her hiding away in her shell. She sits him down and tells her about the encounter with Maurice in the forest, and for the first time in her life, she watches his fear melt away. They hug for the first time since she was a young child, and it truly feels like a homecoming.

Mercedes adjusts nicely to life in the manor with Marianne, and they soon have the run of the place while her adoptive father deals with political messes. It’s more than she ever could have dreamed of- not only the companionship, but the domesticity and the love, as well. Every night she goes to sleep in Mercedes’ arms, and every morning she wakes to her face, and she’s never felt so happy to be alive before. 

The world feels like a much more tolerable place, here with Mercedes. They spend their days glued to each other’s sides, always together. It’s rare to see them apart, the house staff always surprised if they see one without the other.

They wed a year and a half later, in the summer. They have flowers woven into their hair, and they both cry like babies when they exchange their rings. Marianne doesn’t even care that she’s crying in front of all of her friends, because she’s just so overwhelmingly happy. Mercedes looks at her, with that big, beautiful signature smile of hers, and every doubt she’s ever had about her life and her happiness melts away. This is her happiness now, her future with the woman she loves. Here, in front of all the other people she loves and cares about, she secures her future with Mercedes and she knows that all of her tomorrows will be better and brighter.

She’s so much more than the wraith of a girl that used to haunt the cathedral at Garreg Mach. she’s so much more than her fear, and her hatred of herself. She knows, now, the value that her life has. Not only to herself- but to those around her. The journey was long, and difficult, and not entirely finished, but she knows now that she has the support she needs to conquer it. She can do anything. 

Mercedes opens an orphanage for children displaced and orphaned in the war. They run it together, and Marianne has never felt so full in all her life. They spend their days with the children and their nights together, and it’s more than she ever could have asked for. 

Marianne does not haunt anymore. She does not pray for death- in fact, she prays that the Goddess gives her as much time here as possible, with her wife and the people she loves. The ghost that used to haunt Garreg Mach is no more, replaced with a lively, happy woman who loves her life. Every day, she counts her blessings. The frightened young girl she used to be is a distant dream, compared to the woman she’s become, and she could never ask for anything more. 

She gives a little extra thanks to the Goddess every day, and starts it with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, for coming on this little journey with me. I have slaved over this fic for months, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, and can only hope that you also enjoyed it! As always, feedback is welcome! Come find me on twitter @sterling_stars to watch me weep about finally finishing this monster of a fic and say hi!

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 is coming soon! It is currently in the works and is on its way. In the meantime, let me know what you think! Also feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sterling_stars), where you can hear me yell about this monster of a fic in real time.


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